


Nocturnal Visitors

by kiss_me_cassie



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-04
Updated: 2004-05-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 08:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9170041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_me_cassie/pseuds/kiss_me_cassie
Summary: He can't escape his dreams.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers:Nothing specific, maybe a hint of S4  
> Rating/Pair: NC-17, Wes angst  
> Disclaimers: None of the characters on which this fic is based belong to me. They belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I am only borrowing from them and make no profit.  
> Thanks: To Yana, for the wonderful help.

The dream is always the same. 

He awakens in the middle of the night, panicked and sweating, reliving the horrors he has survived - demons and vampires and his own sordid past. 

Long, thin arms come around his body, startling him. The pounding of his heart evens out when he realizes it's not another demon ready to kill him, but an offering of comfort in the darkness. Breathing in the soft, enveloping scent of the woman who holds him, he turns in her arms and buries his face against her neck. She is warm and her pulse beats regularly beneath his lips. 

She pulls him closer and murmurs soft, soothing words as she rocks him against her body. Gradually, his panic recedes and he begins to notice other things about her ? the flimsy silk of her nightgown, the feel of her slight form beneath it, the brush of her long, wavy hair against his cheek. 

He raises his head and she kisses him tenderly, first on the forehead, as a mother would a small child waking from a nightmare, then on his cheek, removing all traces of the wetness that clings there. He is not even aware that he has shed any tears until her lips move to his and he tastes the lingering saltiness on her tongue as she kisses him fully. 

Her kiss offers relief and forgetfulness and he loses himself in the pleasure of it. 

His hands begin to roam across her body, caressing her pert breasts, her slim waist, her narrow hips. Her nightgown bunches beneath his eager hands and she helps him to remove it, exposing her slender body to his greedy gaze. He leans down, taking a puckered nipple into his mouth, and she lets out an aroused squeak. When he runs a hand along her bare leg, he can feel her tremble. 

Gently pushing her back against the sheets, he skims her panties away and positions himself above her, needing to make love to her with unprecedented urgency. 

As he parts her pale thighs, he notices that her legs are fuller, more curvaceous than they were just moments ago. Her hips are wider, rounder, fleshier. When he looks up at her face, a smirk rests upon her cold lips and sharp eyes study him intently. 

In a husky voice, she asks if he really thinks he can get rid of her that easily. Mutely, he shakers his head no; he can't seem to forget her no matter how hard he tries. She's in his blood and his heart, and he's not sure how to purge her from his memories. 

With a wry smile, she comments that he always has been too romantic. He tries to protest but she cuts him off with a brutal kiss. When she breaks it, she tells him not to deny it; there's a dollar in his wallet that says otherwise. 

Then she is shifting her hips and he's sliding into her, unable to resist the feel of her tight, wet passage. The feelings she arouses in him are sharp and intense, and he is unable to stop himself from plunging deep, thrusting into her harder and harder as she cries out in pleasure. He knows her, knows how she likes to tease and torment, knows that behind the sharp barbs and mocking smiles, she wants him as much as he wants her. 

He buries himself deep inside her and comes in a sudden rush. 

He is still recovering from the intensity of his orgasm when she rolls them so that she is sitting astride his naked body. Aggressive hands rake across his chest, no longer gentle or teasing but punishing, drawing welts across his skin. Muscular thighs trap his body against the bed, preventing an escape. When he opens his eyes and looks up at her, he sees a sneer on her crimson lips and hate burning in her darkly made-up eyes. 

Her bow-shaped mouth twists in distaste as she takes in the look of sexual satisfaction he is unable to hide. He instantly knows that he has made a tactical error and hastily pleads for forgiveness, but it is too late. 

Reaching behind her, she picks up a sharp, wooden stake and holds it high above her head. Just before she plunges it deep into his chest, he hears her curse him, a litany of hate that is lost to him as he feels his life draining from his body. 

His screams echo in the silent bedroom as he bolts upwards in bed. 

It's just a dream, he reminds himself. A nightmare. He thinks he should be used to them by now, but he's not. He never will be. The sins of his past will always haunt him. And there's no escaping the remorse that resides within.


End file.
